


~Our Merry Little Christmas~

by Kairat11



Category: Supernatural, deancas - Fandom, destiel - Fandom
Genre: A special present, Alpha Castiel, Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/omega verse, Cape Cod, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, I really want to live in their house, M/M, My heart was too full of love when I was writing this, Omega Dean, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a bit of angst, destiel au, destiel christmas, ‘So fluffy you’ll need new teeth by the end of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 03:42:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9053812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kairat11/pseuds/Kairat11
Summary: Cas has to travel three days before Christmas and Dean has been feeling unwell. Cas is very concerned and Dean is making him a special present. But maybe Cas will end up with two gifts instead. Our Merry Little Christmas is a wreath of fluff, domestic bliss, a hint of angst, sexy times and true love that will have your heart bursting rainbows from beginning to end.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello guys, 
> 
> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. This is my gift to you, I hope you like it. Many long hours each day went into writing this story so it's close to my heart. May you feel all the love imbued into it in your own heart. 
> 
> Much love, 
> 
> Kat :)
> 
> PS: Happy reading!

 

**_~Our Merry Little Christmas~_ **

The twinkling fairy-lights hanging from their four-poster king-sized nailhead, sand-colored linen bed painted diaphanous golden streaks on his husband’s sweat glistening skin, making the constellations of late-summer kissed freckles adorning the white-hot body beneath him as distracting as the slight arc of Dean’s muscled back. Or maybe it was the uninhibited moans mixed with broken obscenities breathlessly rushing out of his mate’s mouth or the stream of clear slick coating his right hand as his fingers pumped in and out of his Dean with an awe-inspiring precision that managed to tease his omega’s prostate unfailingly that had him irremediably entranced. Castiel felt pride swell inside his chest at having convinced the gorgeous man erasing with one vibrant green, passion-lidded look everything else that wasn’t the two of them to let him bring a bit of Christmas inside their bedroom. Maybe he can persuade Dean to keep the lights after the holidays.  

            “ _Ca-s_ …mmm… c’mon, don’t be a tease…”

Those words spoken in such a sweet tone, edged with warning, and intoned in a deceptively even and slow voice easily seeped inside his pores, setting him afire. His husband’s words always affect him beyond cutaneously; each syllable a neurotransmitter so powerful his brain was quickly overcome with the ever-growing love emanating from his soul or from the limbic system, specifically the amygdala if he wanted to be less of a ‘Sappy Alpha’ (which he didn’t). Forget about mating pheromones, oxytocin, dopamine, norepinephrine, and all the other ‘love hormones’ released by the brain during sex; he was certain all the subcortical structures of his brain were wall-papered with a plethora of personalized Dean Winchester-Novak stationary. Dean’s mix of rich dark woods, warm and spicy musky scent that always welcomed him home and into possessive arms and made all of Cas’s exhaustion bleed out of him instantaneously was engrained in the atoms that form him. So much so that when he went away on business trips, he had to bring with him one of Dean’s worn-out t-shirts; one time, because he was in such a hurry, he forgot to snatch one and consequently suffered from a head-splitting headache for the three days he was away.

“ _Castiel_ , dammit…ah!”

Every emotion and feeling, touch and gaze, sound and smell, thought and word, action and reaction—everything between them— since their eyes connected for the first time through the wide glass windows of Dean’s woodshop four years ago, has been raw and unfeigned. It wasn’t until he worked up the courage to walk into the shop a few days later (and according to Gabe, acting like a ‘creepy love-whipped puppy’), walked around the shop admiring the flawless craftsmanship of the pieces up for sale, that he got to officially meet the beautiful charming man that had imperiously claimed every dream he had at night. Of course, before that happened, he made it a point to walk by the shop in the mornings before going to work (thank God, his office was three streets over), at lunch time on his way to his favorite Italian Café (which was coincidentally located two doors over the woodshop), and at the end of his workday before driving back home—his mind jam-packed with freckled cheeks and light brown spiky hair, lush lips and golden skin licked with sweat. Every time his painfully conspicuous eyes searched for the owner of the most staggering pair of eyes he had ever seen, he was met with knowing smiles and amused crinkly gazes.

“ _Dean_ , you are so beautiful, extremely so. Such a wondrous miracle…my mate, my fate.” Cas spoke these words in a susurration as he dragged his parched lips down Dean’s bared throat; he wished he could imprint them on his husband’s skin with indelible ink, to have them sink inside his body until they reached his heart, to have to power to make them repeat on a loop in Dean’s mind like an hourly mantra. Castiel was sure Dean still didn’t know how much he was loved.

The thick fingers tangled in his sweat matted hair caressed and tightened at each word, and with each open-mouthed kiss Cas dispensed on his sturdy shoulders, alluring collarbone, and flushed chest, his mate’s eyes glowed brighter. How he hadn’t gone blind was a mystery to him.

“Dean…oh _Dean_ , delight my ears with the sounds of your pleasure.”   

            Dean’s body unfailingly became a firebrand at Cas’s touch. Those plump pink lips lashed around his nipple and suckling with the perfect mix of tender and rough, the fingers massaging his inner walls and fingertips expertly teasing his prostate while the other hand wrapped around his erection swiftly slid from the tip to the base on repeat had Dean quivering with overpowering desire. While the heels of his feet dug into the mattress, his back became a replica of a traditional bow; it wasn’t only his pleasure that’s made his brain short-circuit but his Alpha’s as well. The feel of Cas’s sweat coating his left hand as he smoothed it up and down a sinewy back and the hot hardness he has trapped in his right hand as it followed a slow rhythm, wrench low growls and moans from the man above him that were louder than Dean’s own. And Dean enjoyed them, reveled in them, because _he_ was the cause of them. _His_ Alpha’s skin was rosy and he was panting and desperate and looking at him with so much adoration in those glimmering blue eyes that Dean almost choked up.  

            “Cas…Ca-s, fuc-”

            Kissing up his husband’s sensitive neck, Cas nosed the shell and back of Dean’s ear, and as lips dusted tiny kisses around the curve, he whispered, “Even if I didn’t know your scent better than my own, I would never mistake it for anyone else’s. Your face would never be lost to me, Dean, because in an ocean of faces, yours guide my eyes. My love. My husband. My mate. My omega.”

            Dean’s vocal cords apparently had forgotten how to weave words because he couldn’t do anything other than stupidly gape at the face so close to his own. These weren’t new words—not entirely— he had heard countless variations and each more heartfelt than the next, and maybe it was precisely that that effortlessly messed with his brain’s ability to function.

Four years and a few days have passed since they lay eyes on each other, and his feelings for the man underneath him have yet to stop spreading their roots in his being. Castiel had been totally captivated by Dean Winchester even before they shook hands and their eyes _glowed_ , letting them know they had found each other’s _True Mate_. From then on, it was a mixture of friendship and courting, hopes and fears, undeniable attraction and sleepless nights. He prayed every night for Dean to accept him and two years later they mated in an ancient ritual, rarely used in modern times which made it the more attractive— ‘Infrangible Lifeblood Oath’. They mixed each other’s blood, becoming intrinsically bound to one another; a small cut on their right wrists served as one of many proofs of their commitment to each other. There was no need for ‘Claiming Bites’ which they both considered barbaric; they didn’t want strangers to be privy of their intimate relationship. If they left marks on each other’s bodies, then it was because they desired so and not to fulfill some outdated custom. After the Oath, they decided to make it official and held a small wedding ceremony with their closest family and friends on the beach near their house.

After meeting Dean, Castiel confirmed that despite doing valuable work as a social activist and by funding nonprofit organizations that helped provide omegas with health care, emotional support, legal advice, palliate care, finding jobs, getting an education, and bringing them out of abusive homes, he was still missing something. Of course, he has always felt strongly about his active involvement in such an important cause as well as in his job at the pharmaceutical family business, which also provided monetary and moral support to Pro-Equality Omega Institutions, yet there was an ever-present gnawing feeling that he was mechanically living his life when he wasn’t doing the aforementioned. In fact, he rarely spent any time at home before Dean. And now, here he was, utterly enamored and at the mercy of this incredibly kind, hard-working, honest, resilient, and strong person; here he was, lost to bewitching eyes and ruled by the scent of his mate.       

A scent that recently smelled somewhat different, a scent that has acquired a sweet tinge to it and which he couldn’t quite decipher. He could taste it in Dean’s mouth, feel it tickling his skin, and playing with his brain. It smelled sugary but not cloying, made him more clingy and protective, which Dean sometimes found endlessly amusing but other times irritating. His instincts were at war with his mind, and he was letting the former unconsciously control him. He must have looked distracted because Dean’s hands had abandoned their post at his back and cock, and now they were cradling his head and pulling him down to meet commanding lips bearing a snarl. If he hadn’t set free his mate’s dick and held his weight with his hand, he would have violently dropped all of his weight against Dean’s body, which in the state of their erections it wouldn’t have been too pleasant. Even his husband flinched at the possibility.

“Castiel Winchester-Novak, _I’m right here_. Stop reminiscing. Or else I’m gonna think I’m losing my ability to seduce you,” Dean growled against his stinging lips as his blunt fingers grasped handfuls of Cas’s disheveled hair and hitched brows fixed on him a chastising look. But there was no steel behind the words or actions, thus he decided to tease a little while his fingers remained on task inside of Dean, slow drags that he knew drove his husband out of his mind.

“Are you jealous, Gorgeous?” he breathed pressed against his omega’s dahlia-red lips, heavy eyes locked on brilliant emeralds cloaked with the weight of lust.

“Ah, Go-d, shit…mmm, fuuu-ck…”

Filthy words had never been so sensual as when they came out Dean’s mouth during their love-making. He wasn’t one to swear, but he rejoiced at such words when chanted by his beloved. Dean knew it. Castiel’s body must have communicated it to him with shudders, sounds and touch. Hands still possessively holding his head and hips rocking back and forth to meet the slide of his fingers, the ablaze man beneath him belatedly answered his question with sultry lips hovering over his mouth.

“Should I be?”

One of Dean’s legs flew from the mattress to repose on the small of Cas’s back and the heel of his foot strategically dug into it, pushing him against his husband’s lively manhood. His mate quit the endeavor of fucking his fingers and instead propelled his hips upward to grind their dicks together. The action ripped twin moans from their throats and tremors from their bodies, their eyes shone and shut close, nimble fingers twisted inside Dean’s inner walls and his omega’s fingers spiked pain by tugging hard at his hair.

Once the sensations had ebb a bit and his labored breathing had settled, he opened his eyes which settled on a ruddy face as he retorted, “No, because I was thinking of you.”

It took his perfect omega a few seconds to catch his breath and reply, “It doesn’t matter, Cas _._ I’m jealous of the me that lives in your mind.”

Only at these intimate times Dean was entirely honest with his feelings. Only when Cas held him in his arms his husband was free of emotional restrictions. Only when they were alone his mate let his heart speak all it contained. And it was _sublime_. Dean was perfectly flawed and Cas loved him precisely because of that. Dean was Dean and that meant he didn’t apologize for being a man and an omega nor for not fitting in the ideal mold of a proper omega or flipping the finger at antiquated traditions and fighting unjust laws.

   Sitting back on his heels, Cas brought the hand he had braced on the mattress and the one pleasuring his husband up to cover the broad hands cupping his head, and then guided them to his lips, whilst he impressed a kiss at the center of each work-roughed palm, he uttered “ _Dean_ , you just have to breathe and my mood changes from ill to good.”

Breathing in the titillating scent of his omega’s arousal, he continued, “You don’t know how much power you have over me, Beautiful. You really don’t.” Cas’s lips followed the lines down Dean’s arms and wandered the ridges of his ribs, leaving invisible tattoos that burned through his skin and etched rare symbols on his bones. Wrists loosely trapped in his Alpha’s long-fingered hand, he could only writhe with pleasure as steams of slick coated his inner thighs and the sheets underneath him. Dean’s robust legs encased Cas between them while singeing lips roamed over his chest and down, down to his belly where their warmth made a flutter bloom.

“Jesus fucking Christ! Mmm, Ca-”

No, it was Cas who didn’t know the power he had over him. And it was startling to realized it every time. Dean has always been a realist or as his smartass little brother puts it— a self-punishing pessimist. After high school, he had left behind the illusions of love and true mates and all that pheromones and limbic system bullshit. Sex— he had always enjoyed, be it with betas, other omegas and the occasional alpha; he was good at it, always has been. Lust without strings attached was what he had preferred back them. Physically, he was more often than not satisfied (maybe 75 percent), but it wasn’t until that Thursday, September 8th four years and a handful of days ago, that all of what he had forcibly left behind caught up with him like a rogue comet crashing against his iron reinforced walls. Damn, he still remembered that day like it was yesterday, how he became so frikkin’ giddy he couldn’t stop smiling and whistling like a fool and ruining wood after wood like an amateur carpenter after the bluest eyes he had ever seen traversed him. Four years and counting and that gaze still made him breathless, because most of the time _his_ Cas speaks with his eyes. And Dean’s the only translator. Worrying his lips to silence words he was dying to cry out, he swallowed the knot gripping his throat; tilting back his head he let his eyelids conceal the spark of new life waiting to burst out of him.  

“Dammi-t Cas. I-I want, ahhh…” This was too much. It was always too much. But it was never enough. _How?_

As his mate’s lips nurtured his flesh with offerings of sunlight, his tongue laved the salty drops bedewing the planes of his midriff while fingertips painterly mapped his skin in elaborate brushstrokes. They journeyed around his nipples and gently pinched the peaks, walked up his neck and tickled the line of his shoulder, glided down his left arm and hovered over his armpit and then crawled down his flank and traced the slight curve of his waist before they went on to massage his hip and afterward followed the line of his thigh where powerful fingers pressed down on taut muscles. Dean could easily come with these reverential touches, but that’s not what he needed it or wanted it at the moment. His mind and heart were already full of Cas (holy crap, he totally sounds like a thirteen-year-old with his first crush). And right now, what he craved more than getting off was Cas inside of him, filling him wholly with his knot, making him gasp for air and feeling at the brink of fainting. Ergo, he broke free from the net of his husband’s fingers and reached down to bring his mate’s face close to his own.       

The potent scent of his mate’s excitement, the salty smell of pre-come and sweat as well as his husband’s blood coursing through his veins and fiercely claiming him, compelled his vocal cords to work. “Enough. I want you now, _Alpha_.”

Tenderly biting down on Cas’s luscious bottom lip and then immediately licking it to soothe away the mild sting, Dean’s teeth scraped down his man’s chin until it reached the endearing dimple at the base of his chin and nibbled at it, all the while his finger pads delineated along the lines of his Alpha’s hairline as his lips continued their journey down his mate’s bare throat and mouthed down at the bend of his neck, sucking until the skin under his attentions colored scarlet and a hiss parted pink lips. Cas’s complete surrender totally free of ‘Alpha do & don’ts’ have always produced an intoxicating physical and mental effect on Dean. After giving his husband a small token of his love, he ungracefully rolled over to his hands and knees and presented. A quiet gasp sprinted out of Castiel’s chest as a pleasurable chill ran up his spine and his heart clumsily hopscotched behind what felt like glass ribs. The sight of his lovely omega giving himself over in a show of absolute trust will never cease to render him speechless. Dean’s back was a play of sinewy muscles and lustrous satiny skin, corded arm muscles speckled with streaks of light and jadeite eyes alight as he looked over the relaxed line of his shoulder and smirked as he positioned his bowlegs in welcoming invitation.

“Fuck me full, Cas. I want to feel the shape of your alpha cock inside of me for days, until you come back. C’mon, Angel. _I need you_.” Pupils dilated and lips bee-stung, florid freckled skin sweat-stained, hair damped and eyes iridescent with a distinct glow—Dean was the living God of Eros.

He was already inebriated by the divine smell of Dean’s slick, but the sight of it as it trickled down his thighs drove him to the edge. If he hadn’t master a self-control his husband dubbed ‘freakin’ saintly’, he would have pop his knot without having the honor to enter his mate. That didn’t mean his cock wasn’t eager to feel Dean’s tight walls enclosing around him and milking him until Cas could barely come anymore, or that his Alpha-instincts weren’t screaming at him to mount his omega, knot him, and wrest from him as many orgasms as he could. But he also wanted to take some time to adore this prodigious being tempting him mercilessly. He wanted to shower Dean with a myriad of reverential touches, thorough licks, gratitude-imbued kisses, and whisper psalms into his skin. He wanted to remind his husband what a miracle he was, show him how loved and cherished and important he was to him.

And that’s exactly what Castiel will do.   

Arousal had Dean’s mind enwreathe in a sort of delirious fog; it was making him wetter than usual, causing his hole to throb with a primal ache, and his hardened cock jolt in desperation. He _needed_ Cas to move the hell up and make him full. Dean _needed_ his Alpha to thrust into him unbridle and to soothe the almost painful itch that got him slack-mouthed, limbs trembling, and watery-eyed. It was a need beyond what he was used to, a heady desire that had him breathing hard and his skin burning; he wasn’t in heat but it such as hell felt like it. And the thing was that he wasn’t just horny for his mate’s knot to stretch him full, but also for the way Cas worshiped him with both words and touch. Thus, without a second thought, he decided to take matters into his own hands to get what he wanted. After all, he knew what to do to wreck his mate’s freakish self-control.

Face down and forehead pressed against one of the soft pillows that smelled like Cas, like himself, like passion and warmth and home, Dean proceeded to cant his ass higher in the air; hips undulating in the way he knew drove his husband insane and legs spread as wide as he could while his hands grabbed a hold of the luxurious (and disgustingly expensive $390, 100% Egyptian cotton. Gabe told him and he almost hyperventilated) white bedsheets they received as a wedding gift two years ago, from Michael—he did it all without feeling so much as a grain of shame. The low growl that rumbled in the chest plastered to his sweaty back sparked a current of electricity up his spine; the hands cupping his hips tightened as Cas’s swollen cock teasingly slid up and down the cleft of his ass. A throaty moan reverberated like an eternized echo in the room; Dean was sure his blood would dry up in his veins before his husband could fuck him.

“Ca-s, Ca-Cas…”

Against the nape of his neck his mate stamped a strand of impassioned kisses, followed by tender bites lined with hunger; his body twisted and trembled and his throat felt raw from overuse. Dean felt a pulse of slick flow down his inner thighs and a kiss hastily branded to the dip of his back, before eager hands spread his ass cheeks and a hot tongue licked his sensitive hole clean. A loud whine parted his lips and shut his eyes, dampened his skin anew and made his erection throb painfully. His body moved on his own; possessed hips stuttered backwards pushing against his mate’s wicked tongue, the tip of it expertly circling and rubbing the tingling ring of muscle. Meanwhile, his dick jolted strained by the need to empty itself, the head oversensitive and trickling pre-come. Toes curled until he could feel his bones pop and fingers clutched the sheets until his knuckles turned white, Dean blindly brought one of his tremulous hands to tug Cas’s hair. His warning growl met with an irritated growl both equally compelling, but it was Dean’s that accomplished its goal.

“Fuc-fuuuck, oh!”

With a final thorough swipe of his tongue around the throbbing rim, Cas gently bit one of his butt cheeks, palmed and slapped each, and then lined himself up behind Dean and let his prominent erection sink inside of him with a smooth roll of hips. A guttural moan bursted out of him when his Alpha abruptly changed the angle of his hips and nailed his prostate full on. He wasn’t sure how long his hands and legs could support him or if he could hold off his orgasm for much longer; every fiber of his being was fried, utterly overstimulated by his husband’s thorough ministrations. Head bow and lips trapped by sharp teeth threatening to break skin, he could barely breathe, yet his body knew what it wanted and his hips began to rock backwards, meeting his mate’s sharp thrusts. Cas drove into him unbridle but with calculated rolls, one hand roaming up his sweat-blanketed stomach until his fingertips reached his left nipple and a blunt fingernail flicked the pert nub, while the other hand cupped his hypersensitive balls, massaging them carefully and forcefully wrenching a series of broken moans and whines. Circling his hips lazily and teasing Dean’s prostate by grinding against it, his husband’s fingers kept playing with his puffy nipples while the other curled around his rock-hard cock and mischievously thumbed the reddened head.

“Caaaas…Al-alpha.”

No sound was as hypnotizing as his omega’s ecstasy-induced cries, no vision was as marvelous as Dean’s body bowing to pleasure, no expression was as beatific as his mate’s during intimacy, and that is why he _needed_ those resplendent irises to gaze at him as his beloved’s climax speared through him. With one last caress to Dean’s pert nubs, his hand crept to his man’s sweat-matted hair, carded his fingers through it and then licked his way up the ridge between his shoulder blades, taste buds alive with the salty taste and begging for more. Cas’s adagio tempo thrusts and Dean’s erratic undulations, hand earnestly pumping up and down on Dean’s cock and heaving chests almost out of air, trembling limbs and tensing abdominal muscles, buzzing skin bubbling with excited blood and balls drawn up with tension, swollen knot pressing into Dean’s prostate and the burn of it stretching him wide open—they were both standing on a dangerously fast eroding bluff and at each encounter of Dean’s prostate with the blunt head of his Alpha’s increasing girth, the weaker that bluff became; he was sure that soon they will both meet the crashing waves on the shore far below.  

Every time he rammed against his omega’s prostate Cas could feel the fleet-footed approach of his orgasm, but before he picked up his rhythm, his tongue swept up and down the supple bend of Dean’s neck and sharply bit down but careful not to break skin, the action wrung an unholy noise out of his mate. At the same time, Dean’s right hand raked through Cas’s hair and grabbed a handful as their lips converged in ravenous kiss that was all teeth and rough sucks. When his hips tried to pull away to once again ram inside of his sinful looking omega, his knot caught at the rim and twin hisses were swallowed by famished mouths. Leonine eyes once again on each other and lips smothering praises between then, Castiel plunged into his mate with a sharp thrust and ate his name as it escaped Dean’s mouth. The blood rushing through his ears and the first wave of his orgasm marking Dean as his once again, didn’t let him hear his own voice chanting hymns against his ear.

“ _Dea-n_. De-Dean. Oh, _Dean_ … _Love_ , Dean. Mine-” 

And just like that, in a mix of tenderness and roughness and clenching around his Alpha’s cock, he spilled all over Cas’s hand still stroking him as he rode his orgasm; it was violent and quick, a whirlwind of rapid-fire and disorienting tremors that caused his breath to hitch—an explosion that rose from the pit of his stomach and consumed all of his oxygen. The height of his climax made his head dizzy and the fall from it left him gasping for lungfuls of air; he couldn’t move or think nor talk or see only feel. Gulping down, he fought to catch his breath.

Dean felt so so so full and it wasn’t because of Cas’s knot stretching him good—no—it was because of everything his husband told him with each touch. Yeah, Cas’s sappiness was dangerously contagious, but you know what? He didn’t mind, because Cas is _home_ and being home is supposed to feel like this.

He felt himself being manhandled down to the mattress and onto his side, back against his alpha’s firm chest, one strong arm over his waist and an instinctual protective hand splayed over his middle and the other arm sliding under his pillow, cushioning his head. They’ll stay knotted for a while, Cas’s seeds flooding Dean with warmth and their deliciously spent bodies melded like metal and entwined like vines. Bringing his hands to link with slender fingers, Dean tilted his head back to rest it against the top of his Alpha’s head, eyes closed as his oversensitive flesh received a feast of agape kisses.

Curling around Dean, Castiel uttered in an undertone, his gravelly voice muffled by his omega’s skin, “Sleep, Dean. I will take care of everything. I’ll watch over you.”

By the time he opened his eyes again the next morning, the sheets have been changed, his body wiped down and he was wearing clean red plaid boxers and a white t-shirt; the ridiculously expensive gray cashmere blanket Gabe gifted them last Christmas added a toasty warmth hard to shake. Dean had insisted Gabriel returned it because—holy crap! — $595 dollars for a freakin’ blanket was too much. But of course, the asshole had refused to do so or tell Dean or Cas where he bought it and told them to _‘Please calm the fuck down, it’s only a damn blanket for God’s sake’_ and then added that he also made donations to all the nonprofit Pro-Equality omega institutions they both supported. That earned him a grateful hug from Cas, which the midget at first pretended to hate, but then returned in earnest. Sam, the ever-helpful moose had offered to take it off his hands if it bothered him that much, earning him an elbow to his rib from Jess, an amused smile from their mom and a courteous middle finger from Dean. Now though, he couldn’t deny that he the feel of cashmere against his skin was a guilty pleasure.

Dean didn’t have time to reminisce or enjoy the softness of the blanket because as if out of a rom-com, his sexy as fuck Alpha entered the room with pearly whites bared in goofy smile and bearing breakfast goodies on the $198 (Gabe unhelpfully him, just to see Dean cringe) bamboo serving tray Balthazar sent them for their first wedding anniversary. The Novak brothers oughta do better things with their money.

“Hello, Sunshine.”

“Hello, Dean.” Cas was always so adorably formal.

Now it wasn’t the time to think about his in-laws. Not when his eyes met sparkly blues and one of his hands unconsciously went to pat his belly fondly or his cheek was being caressed affectionately. The presence and feel of Cas, the sense of rightness inside of him and surrounding them, the faint sunrays filtering through white linen curtains and the peaceful silence, the scent of home plastered to Cas’s skin and the one of love clinging to Dean’s flesh—all of it were symbols of his happiness. Increasing happiness. Therefore, he let himself embrace his blessings as the smell of coffee with milk and fresh fruit and orange juice, cheesy bacon and egg hash and a slice of pecan pie filled his nostrils and yanked an embarrassing growl from his stomach.    

**********

“Will you be okay?” Two weeks ago, Dean would have been a flippant little shit and thrown back a quip, but after what happened he couldn’t. Not when Cas was looking at him with those damn big earnest blue eyes full of unfettered concern. Not when his mate’s carefully-constructed calm demeanor was cracking and bleeding a tainted metallic scent of wrongness.  

“Yeah, Cas, I will. This isn’t the first time you’re going on a business trip, you silly Alpha.”

“I don’t know, Dean. I just…It doesn’t _feel_ right to be away from you. You haven’t been feeling well these past three weeks. Gabe or Balthazar could go instead of me. I am sure they-”

Bringing up his hands to cup his concerned husband’s face, Dean’s thumbs fondly traced the curves of strong cheekbones, the gesture effectively curtailing the rest of his husband’s words. The effects of his touch instantly coax the tense lines marring the handsome features beneath his finger pads to melt away. Dean can’t send him off reeking of worry; it’ll just make things uncomfortable for the people in the plane and the potential business partners he’s meeting. But most importantly, he didn’t want his mate feeling miserable, looking unapproachable, and refusing to eat because he thinks he should be taking care of Dean instead. Cas already thought he was a ‘bad’ Alpha for working long hours and traveling so much, and Dean refused to feed those gnawing thoughts; he needed to soothe the anxiety scrunching his husband’s brow and tensing his muscles.

Dean was a big boy and he could damn well take care of himself, thank you very much. A nagging voice inside his head not so gently reminded him what happened two weeks ago, but he easily flicked it away. No point in dwelling on the past. _They_ were fine. At that thought, his heart fluttered like the wings of a hummingbird and his chest almost bursted with the many swirling emotions dancing a disparate tango inside his heart. It was getting more and more difficult not to grab Cas’s hands and bring them where Dean wanted them to be.

Just a little longer.

But at the moment, his only goal was to shoo away his mate’s worries, so as he spoke, he tried to drench each word with reassurance.

“Hey there. Cas. Sunshine, breathe and listen to me,” as he murmured these words, Dean reached for his husband’s left hand, which was distractedly rubbing at the flabby skin of his belly under his wine-colored sweater—his Alpha completely oblivious of what that tender touch meant to him and still brooding. Dean let his right hand seize the aforementioned hand and brought it up to meet his lips, lean fingers and palm ever so soft against the delicate mix of brushes and kisses. The sigh that tumbled out of Cas’s mouth was like a warm zephyr caressing his cheeks.

“Yes, it’s true I have been feeling crappy, but it’s just the change of seasons and the frikkin’ allergies. No reason to freak out, okay?” The face in front of him still held concern, but the taut lines of his mate’s shoulders were no more, yet his favorite shade of delphinium gazed at him with apprehension.

_Thinking back to two weeks ago_ , _when he lost his footing due to sudden dizziness as he was going down the deck steps (apparently, a man can’t even **try** to enjoy a morning cup of joe sitting down on his damn chair and staring at the boat-free, semi-frozen pond). Dean had been counting on his body’s superior healing ability to erase any trace of the nasty scar that lingered on the right side of his forehead (where did that fuckin’ rock had come from anyway?!) before Cas came back from his business trip. But things didn’t go his way, he should have figured as much. And anyway, he wouldn’t have succeeded to keep it from his husband, because Mrs. Moseley, their next-door neighbor would have ruined his plans. God bless her, she’s one of the few decent betas he had ever met; very nice, cooks like a MasterChef, and her gardening skills have earned her Cas’s eternal admiration, but the lady couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. _

_Dean of course was beyond thankful she had found him—sprawled face down on the grass, unconscious, and then tended to his wound. As his neighbor fussed over him, he tried to suppress the panic he felt rapidly encroached every corner of his mind; he didn’t know why his arms automatically cinched around his middle protectively or why his heart thrashed with fear                   nor why his omega instincts were on high alert. He had always been freakishly healthy, not even as much as a cold, but all of a sudden, he had developed allergies. They had ambushed him and barely let him sleep. But it wasn’t only that, he also had a constant upset stomach and lack of appetite. Dean had in part blamed them for his shitty state, until his own body began to expose another reason that took him to see his doctor. Cas had noticed his declining health as well; how could he not when keen eyes practically x-rayed him at every turn. But it was odd how he wasn’t as alarmed by the turn of his health (even before he had gone to the doctor) as the Alpha who instantly reeked of worry, guilt and fear as soon as he walked into the house. The Alpha who made a beeline to Dean, forgoing the accustomed niceties to their neighbor and who immediately enveloped him in an almost bone-crushing embrace as he scented Dean, modesty forgotten, and then searched with wild eyes his body from top to bottom for any other injuries._

_Cas’s anxiety had been so overwhelming it almost dragged Dean down with it; he knew any words would sound like useless platitudes at the moment. So, he peeled the unwilling Alpha from him, rose to his feet still feeling a bit unbalanced, exchanged a grateful look with Mrs. Moseley, who gave him an understanding smile as she walked out the front door, and then tugged his wound-up mate towards the master bathroom. Skin-to-skin contact (definitely **not** snuggling) had always been more reassuring in those situations than eloquent words. After they had stripped their clothes off, they had both gotten into the tub. A warm bath— water perfumed with the lavender bath salts Cas had gotten for him to help him sleep at night, dim lights and silence; all of these simple things infused his mate’s heart with a modicum of serenity. But what ultimately untangled the knots of tension that held hostage his husband’s muscles were the nearness of their waterlogged skin, languid kisses and touches seeking warmth. In his man’s arms, back against his Alpha’s sturdy chest and hands holding his mate’s cocooning him, Dean felt as he always did in Cas’s embrace— **cherished**. That moment hadn’t been about sexual gratification but about unadulterated intimacy. Something that frequently happened between them since they met.   _

Their sex was always fantastic, it never failed to connect their bodies in a way that it was almost scary because of how they responded to each other’s wants and needs. But it was the intimacy between them that set Dean at ease and made him feel like _home;_ they didn’t have to talk or kiss not their skin touch for them to communicate—it was a weird, nice and addicting feeling, how they were bound to one another yet free.

“Now, are you sure you don’t want me to drive you to the airport? I don’t have to open the shop until ten.” Cas was still tense despite his jaw being unclenched and his head leaning completely against Dean’s touch while his hands cataloged Dean’s upper body with zealous determination. But the worry was etched in his eyes—waning the strength of his gaze and sucking the light out of incandescent abyssal blues.

Carding his fingers through his mate’s ever-messy hair and brushing his thumbs over high cheekbones, maintaining eye contact and promptly nullifying the centimeters between them wasn’t enough to abate the concern attached like a gluttony leech to his husband and slowly bleeding him out. He needed to distract Cas. To reroute his train of thought to something more pleasurable.

“I would love for you to drive me there, but Michael arranged transportation for me. He said he wants me to arrive to the meeting on time and that when you drive me I always get there late.” A guilty-as-charge but not sorry at all grin curled Dean’s mouth and momentarily crinkled Cas’s lips. Yeah, it was true. But who could resist before-business-trip-morning-sex?

“I told him multiple times that I wanted the last week of December off and he agreed. I even submitted the time off request form to HR at the end of the summer, but when there is money involved he conveniently suffers from amnesia,” Cas grumbled, voice thick with frustration.

Dean’s thumbs abandoned Castiel’s cheeks and detoured to contour the bolt of his jaw and mellifluous lips. Dark lashes fluttered and Dean forgot his words, but soon enough he recovered.

He cleared his throat, swallowed and then husked, “Stop looking so hot and being so sexy, if you don’t want me to rip your clothes off and ride your cock until you knot me.”

These words released a growl from his husband’s throat and set cobalt blue eyes alight; Dean could feel his own desire build up like flames in his own eyes. Cas’s hand on his stomach journeyed up to the nape of his neck while the other remained in place on his lower back; strong fingers firmly pulled him against the taut column of his man’s body.

Before honeyed eager lips devoured his wanton mouth, his mate’s bass voice replied, “Then do it. What are you waiting for my gorgeous omega?”

Dean didn’t even have time to answer because suddenly his mouth wasn’t his own anymore, it had fallen prey to his Alpha’s teeth, tongue and lips. Blood boiling and fevered skin, moans bouncing off the walls and ivy-like hands—the world fell away and only they remained, consumed to ashes again and again. Hard and aching erections pressed against each other and breaths were interrupted by an incessant hunger; it was lust and need and a wild desire, but mainly a stronger and deeper feeling that always led them. Just when deft fingers were about to pop the buttons of Cas’s white shirt and unzip his pants, a loud honk hoicked their senses back to reality. Breathless and irritated, they hurried to catch their breaths and gain their bearings.

“Fuck you, Michael.”

 Cas rarely cuss, but when he did, Dean couldn’t help but find it hot as hell. At least, he could take care of his throbbing dick in the privacy of their bathroom, but his poor man had to suck it up and will it away. He wished they had more time so he could offer Cas a hand. Once his husband had collected himself, Dean opened the door and travel bag in hand, both walked in step towards the black S-Class Benz waiting for Cas. Winter was definitely here, he could see his own breath. Signaling to Ed to stay in the car, they stood in front of the opened trunk. Something still bothered his Alpha.

They were so in tune with one another that something as insignificant as _a_ _sigh_ effortlessly conveyed an entire mood board of their respective day.

Such ‘ _profound bond’_ as Cas aka ‘the sappiest man alive’ called it, still unnerved him. Yet he wouldn’t wish it away. Not every mated couple shared that deep a bond. It wasn’t something generic every Alpha-Omega pair shared. Not even among True Mates like them. Study after study had been done about this ‘AO Connection’ as so creatively scientist have named it (sounds more like the name of an online dating site than the fairytale they were trying to sell).  He preferred Cas’s version, thought he’ll never admit it. Dean’s mind easily projected his mate’s smug smile at the confession, liquid blue eyes crinkling at the corners, and the feel of Cas’s joy flying his slender fingers to stroke his face. Shit. Who would have thought his ‘I-prefer-to-burn-in-hell-forever-than-to-mate-some-motherfucking-Alpha’ self would end up mated, married, and irrevocably giving his heart away to the antithesis of Alpha knot-heads everywhere. Well, to be fair not all alphas were trash; his mom and Sam were awesome, and Gabe, Balthazar, and Michael were decent albeit being annoying assholes.

“Please call your mom or your brother or even Gabe if you start feeling unwell again. Ellen and Bobby are still on vacation, and Jo and Charlie haven’t come back from their honeymoon. I am sorry we live so far away from them, but we can move next year if you-” A finger against his lips silenced him.

“There’s no need to apologize, man. I like it here; it’s cold as fuck in the winter, but having the beach at a walking distance? You can’t beat that. Besides, I agree to moved here and I don’t regret it. I know you’re still worried about that fall I had, but you gotta let it go and stop blaming yourself. I’m fine now, so go and make us some money.” A wan smile hung indolently from Cas’s mouth and Dean will take it. His Alpha looked so unfairly handsome despite his somber demeanor wearing that black trench coat (the tan one thankfully retired until the spring), the blue/black stripe scarf effectively bringing out his eyes.  

“Okay, I-I will try. Take care, lock all the doors and windows and don’t fall asleep on the sofa or your back will start hurting again.”

“Fine, got it. You worrywart and overprotective Alpha. Go. Get out of here,” he joked smiling playfully as he closed the trunk. “Call me when you get there,” he added.

“I will. I love you.”

“Me too.”

After a lingering kiss that left his lips tingling, he watched as the car drove off— until he couldn’t see it anymore. He’ll never get used to these business trips; he wished Cas didn’t have to travel so often, yet he’ll be damned if he bitches about it.

He should have grabbed his winter coat instead of wearing his favorite brown leather jacket, well at least the dark green cable knit scarf Cas bought for him on his last trip helped him keep somewhat warm as his steps put him on the path towards the beach. The chilly breeze infused with salt moved about and boldly scattered goosebumps all over his skin; it stirred him to move faster, giving him no time to admire the quaint, cast iron with brick lining, 40 ft. Nobska Point Lighthouse standing proud next the red and white 1876 keeper’s house, oil house, storage building, and garage. It was kind of creepy, especially with the angry grey sky and the thick veil of fog that brought to mind Silent Hill. Not that he was scared, he rather liked it. With no one around, except for the occasional sea gull bravely diving into the frigid water to catch an errant fish, it was eerily quiet and blessedly peaceful—and just what he needed. He felt like a living popsicle, but that won’t deter him from his goal.

Gelid breaths, a thin layer of crusted ice and icy sand crackled with each footstep. Frosty hands pulled the jacket collar tighter around his neck at the same time he buried half of his face in the cozy scarf. His ears were always unconsciously drawn by the song of the untamed waves greeting the shore.

            Yes, he was still feeling like crap and it wasn’t precisely because of the allergies. And he also felt guilty for not telling Cas the whole truth. They have been trying for a pup for months and nothing. It wasn’t because of lack of trying on their part, they did their homework religiously every time he was in heat but with no happy results. Dean was beginning to panic, he had always wanted pups. And even though Cas had assured him time and time again that he shouldn’t put so much pressure on himself and that he didn’t need pups to be happy, Dean knew how much his mate fantasized about having a big family. He wanted to give his sweet and kind Alpha that, because Dean also wanted it. While he gave himself to rumination, wandering lost in dreams about smiley chubby babies with Cas’s oceanic eyes and his freckles, he searched for driftwood, dug for seashells and collected sand in a plastic bag he pulled from his jean’s back pocket.

Teeth chattering and skin almost numb and a tiny quirk on his lips, he gave the wintry scene a last look and headed back home. He now had everything he needed to work on his husband’s Christmas gift. Dean will make a delicious breakfast on Christmas morning, cook all of Cas’s favorites and then later in the day they’ll drive to his mom’s house for dinner. On Christmas morning, after a thorough session between the sheets, he’ll give his Alpha his present.

**********

“At what time, will you get back home?” Cellphone set on speaker as it rested on the white marble counter-top of their spacious kitchen island, Dean moved around the space gathering the ingredients to make a chocolate cream pie. He had been craving things he had never been too crazy about like chocolate, kiwi, cauliflower, and frickin’ broccoli. Dean was seriously afraid of what other kind of crap he’ll be stuffing his face with in the time to come. Brussels sprouts is where he drew the line; it smelled like ass and probably taste like it too. He doesn’t understand how Sam can eat shit like that with so much gusto, as if he were eating a piece of Dean’s finger-licking grilled steak seasoned with his special Moho marinade (too bad Tequila is banned temporarily from his diet, not that he indulged often but he isn’t a saint).  

“Probably around 9-9:30, if there aren’t any weather-related delays, but don’t wait up. Christmas Eve is usually chaotic at the airport,” Cas’s voice trickled through the phone with background muffled sounds as he probably hurried to his gate.

“Aren’t we bossy today?” Dean shoot back fast as a whipcrack, but without losing the humor knitting his voice.

A light huff of laughter followed by a short sigh wiggled through the line; Dean could practically see his husband rolling his eyes and shaking his head fondly.

“I miss you, _Dean_. So much…I miss the smell of you soaking my clothes, perfuming my skin, and inundating my senses. I have chased your scent clinging to that Zeppelin t-shirt until it faded, until I inhale all of it and it diffused in my veins. I miss your blessed touch on my flesh and my fingers are restless to wander the lines and curves of your body. These three days have felt like three centuries.” These whispered words were familiar and always so goddammed heartfelt; they cut right through him like a brand-new blade.

Dean’s entire body did a sort of implosion that left him slightly shaken. He could have sworn that the phone in his hand whined at his crushing grip. He could physically feel Cas’s ache in his muscles and joints, in his flesh and his brain, reach the marrow of his bones and feel it twist like a python around his heart. It called to him in a distraught muted scream to make it better, to soothe it with words and comforting touch. And the thing was that it wasn’t a carnal need but an emotional plea for intimacy. Masquerading his feelings despite trying to remain strong to bolster his husband as well as to avoid a ‘chick-flick’ moment was useless, because their connection wasn’t affected by distance.

Taking a deep breath, he let his eyes drift close and forced his body to relax, his right arm wrapped around his middle as he replied in an undertone. “I miss you too, _Cas_. Just think that in a few more hours you’ll be home. I’ll make you some clam chowder. I got the crackers you like.” Yeah, Dean Winchester-Novak used food to mask his inability to say romantic stuff. Cas knew. And Cas also knew that was one of the ways he said ‘I love you’ without actually saying the words. Others might think he was a cold asshole, but those words are too damn important to say every ten minutes. He preferred to let his actions speak for him.

Dean didn’t hear his mate puff a laugh as much as he felt it smooth over his skin. An inevitable shiver shook him gently while immediate self-satisfaction at helping his man’s anxiety dwindle a little swelled inside his chest. His hand tightened a little over his slightly flabby belly, malachite eyes still closed; instinct was a scary thing. Cas had always controlled his Alpha instincts, kept them on a short leash and put aside the biological imperatives of his designation, but add a significant change albeit still unknown to him and it alters his entire mood.

“Thank you, Dean. You always say exactly what I need to hear even when you don’t use words.”  

Cas sounded exhausted, probably didn’t sleep well these last three days. The thing about finding your _True Mate_ is that among the positives (longer live-span, superior strength, heightened endurance, and the ability to heal faster) there was also a downside to it—being separated from your mate, of their scent and touch, fucks up with your body; it messes with your limbic system and Alphas are especially susceptible. There’s a reason why not everyone is thrilled about finding their True Mates, it’s because putting your well-being, practically your mental as well as physical stability in someone else’s hands is damn scary. That’s why True Mates pairings are extremely rare around the world. That’s why it took him _two years_ to finally mate with Cas, and it wasn’t because _he_ didn’t trust Castiel—no, not really—who he didn’t trust was himself. Dean didn’t believe he was what his mate needed; he wasn’t sure he could hold Cas’s life in his hands and not fuck it up. And Cas, God bless his unquenchable patience, not even once pressured him into making any hasty decisions, never used their bond to manipulate him, and gave him space.

“You know me, always willing to lend a helping hand. See you soon, angel.”

“Until tonight, Dean.”

Well, time to put this pie in the oven for about 18 minutes, clean up, and then go back to work. Thank goodness for the convenience of having his workshop in the backyard.

**********

As the car approached his house, Castiel became utterly overcome by the bubbly warm feelings making his heart thrash against his ribs as if a possessed drum. A garland of words as aromatic as evergreens roped around his body and mind.

_Dean-mate-beloved- peace-warmth-love_

They urged him to throw open the back-passenger door and run inside the house. But he fought the mighty force impelling him to forget his rationality, shook his head to dispel the almost pendulum-induced trance (if only a bit) and did things properly. Cas unbuckled his seatbelt and before Ed could open the driver’s door to get the carry-on luggage, he scooted forward and placed his left hand on the old beta’s bony shoulder, and then voiced, “I will get it, Ed. Thank you for picking me up and for the always enlightening conversations. Good night.”

Turning slightly in his seat, Ed answered with a weary but sincere smile, dark brown eyes fond. “My pleasure, Castiel. Now hurry inside, son; you aren’t looking too well. And please give Dean my best regards; my wife is very grateful for the fine table and chairs he donated for the Omega Libertas Foundation’s fundraiser. Everyone at Cape Cod’s Omega Sanctuary is grateful to him for giving his time every week to teach his craft to those good people. He’s giving those men and women a skill that’ll help them make a better life for themselves. You lucked out, Castiel.”

If his body didn’t feel as drained as it did, he would be nodding furiously. “Yes. Yes, I did. I really did. Merry Christmas to you and your family, Ed.” Squeezing the old man’s shoulder, his lips quirked into a faint smile, he then climbed out of the car suitcase in hand, opened the trunk and pulled out his travel bag, and then he finally let his steps lead him towards the house. As cold as it was, he could still pick up the faint smell of salt emanating from the beach, mixed in with the fresh bouquet of balsam and cedar as well as the keen aroma of woodfire. An invisible string of words roped him towards his home.   

_Half of my soul-safety-trust-lifeblood_

When Cas opened the front door, the 6ft. Christmas tree they bought three weeks ago, at Mrs. Moseley’s nursery greeted him into a house otherwise bathed in darkness with its twinkling white lights, various feathered and fluffy woodland creatures as well as exquisitely hand-carved mini cottages, lighthouses, and an Impala (Dean’s creations) ornaments and colorful glass-blown decorations. The halo-shaped tree topper yanked his attention for a moment and stole another smile from him. Dean was responsible for it.

_Last year, on a snowy morning, their first Christmas as a mated couple, he had been pleasantly awoken by his gorgeous mate’s husky voice whispering his name in his ear; the pleasurable weight of Dean’s warm naked body over his bare chest and straddling his exposed crotch while lazily rocking his hips, calloused hands brushing up his flanks outlining his neck and framing his face, and a nibbling kiss—each of those things live wires electrocuting all of him. When he opened his eyes, his world was painted lively green with golden speckles._

_“Hey there, good morning.”_

_“Dean…”_

_“Yeah, that’s my name.”_

_“Wh-what…oh, God…”_

_“Mmm, we will get to that in a bit. Ah, fuc-k…But first, this.”_

_Dean reached behind him and with a triumphant blinding smile revealed his finding—a vintage halo tree topper in superb conditions. The golden base, white string lights, and black/white downy feathers surrounding the circle was a thing of beauty, but his thoughts were still blurred by sleep and excited by arousal. He felt a finger pad smooth over his furrowed brow and an amused chuckle shake his husband’s shoulders, to say even the slightest movement made his body react was an understatement. Thus, he brought his indolent hands up to cup Dean’s sturdy hips, fingertips urgently pressing into the cool flesh._

_“So, am I allowed to sing ‘Baby I see your halo’ now? What do you think, Castiel? Only the harp is missing now.”_

_It was clear by the humor lacing his words and coloring his features that his mate was taking delight in teasing him in various ways. Reaching for the tree topper with his left hand and then setting it down on the white marble and steel night table, he kept one hand steady on the dip of Dean’s back and let the other travel up a broad back until it settled on his nape, and then with a swift move he rolled them over. Now Dean’s back was pressed against the mattress and his legs tightly wrapped around Castiel’s waist. Surprise flashed across his face, quickly followed by a mischievous smirk that was ultimately replaced by need._

_“You should. You should sing that song to me while I thrust into you, knot you, and make you full of me. Sing for me, Dean.”_

That had been one of the best mornings of his life and he was certain that if they had been trying for a baby back then, they would have been successful that day. Cas couldn’t help the abrupt surge of emotions he felt stirring his being as he closed the door behind him, and breathed in the familiar smell of _home_ , Fraser fir, cherry wood slowly burning in the two-sided brick fireplace, and the best fragrance of all—that of his Omega. Scent which overpowered the others as it swirled inside his nostrils and guided his socks-clad feet toward the slate gray suede sofa where a snoozing beauty rested; stretched out on his side and arms coiled around his midriff, head cushioned by one of the white throw pillows Mama Mary knitted for them and barefooted, clothed in a pair of green navy plaid fleece pajama bottoms and a grey Henley sweater. His husband faced the television mounted over the fireplace. ‘Elf’ played at a low volume. Dean’s parted lips and peaceful expression tugged his own into a mad-man grin. _How could one person hold so much of his heart? How can the sight of one person calm him down effortlessly, reenergize his body and nurture his soul?_

Having left his belongings next to the entrance, he took off his trench coat and scarf, loosened his red tie and lingered a bit in front of the sofa. Not wanting to disturb Dean’s much needed rest, he reined in his hands which itched to touch well-loved skin and worried lips hungry for warmth. Now that he was finally home, his appetite came back in full force and the smell of clam chowder lead him to the kitchen. Padding carefully as to not step on few creaking planks, he moved about the kitchen illuminated only by the light spilling from the tree. After serving himself a bowl of soup and getting a packet of his favorite crackers, he sat down in one of the white counter stools. A deep-drawn sigh rushed out of him now that he was home, his gaze divided between his sleeping husband and the bowl in front of him. Dean must be fatigued to sleep so soundly, undisturbed by his presence. It was worrisome.

After practically inhaling two full bowls of soup and four packets of crackers, he cleaned up and walked back to the living room. Remote in hand, he turned off the TV and before taking care of the Christmas tree lights, he flicked on the stair’s. Bending his knees in a wide stance, he slid one of his arms around Dean’s back and the other around the bend of his knees, and as he straightened his mate’s arms automatically coiled around his shoulders; his omega’s head rested on his shoulder as he took them both up the stairs. Sleepy eyes looked up at him dotted with delight while voiceless lips kissed the underside of his jaw and a wandering nose found refuge in the bend of his neck.

Imprinting a kiss on his mate’s temple, he uttered in a hushed tone, “I am home, Dean.”  

**********

            Sitting on the floor next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, still wearing their pajamas and cloaked by the favored cashmere blanket, in front of the lit-up Christmas tree, Dean glanced at him with an expression of barely contained joy. So much so that specks of green and gold shimmered in his eyes. Dean’s scent as it rolled off of him and into Cas’s nose was a gallimaufry of emotions. His husband looked ethereal illuminated only by the fairy-lights. He was a sunlight thief making the morning sky overcast and calling forth snow. Snowflakes fell gracefully, undisturbed by the wind, and they both took in the beauty of the moment by looking out the wide French doors overlooking the frozen pond. Even their breaths were quiet as if even an imperceptible sound was unacceptable. Dean’s heat warming his skin through his clothes, his hand in Cas’s hold, the fire playing shadows on the nearest wall, and the silent holy song being sung outside—to Castiel _this_ was Christmas.     

            After spending some time admiring nature’s rendition of White Christmas, Castiel rose to his feet, walked a few steps towards Dean’s old turntable (a gift from Mary on their wedding day) and carefully dropped the needle on Nat King Cole’s ‘The Magic of Christmas’ album. As the sweet lyrics began to flow, he walked back to take his place next to his Dean. It seemed his omega couldn’t wait any longer to exchange gifts because as soon as he sat, he reached under the tree for a small white box wrapped with silver ribbons; his husband’s plump lips fought a smile with sharp teeth as he set the gift on Cas’s lap.

“Open it, Cas,” Dean’s voice whispered like a secret. And Cas’s heart did three consecutive triple axels without him knowing why. He did as Dean asked, trembling hands betraying him and lungs burning for air. His mate’s gaze on him expectant and brighter than ever.

As he unwrapped the white tissue paper concealing the gift, he swallowed down the lump of aflutter emotions blocking his throat. _What is wrong with me?_ An inexplicable feeling alien to him and that he couldn’t shake had taken a firm hold of him for a while now. When the present was finally revealed, his eyes instantly peered up at his mate, who was alight with amusement. Squinting his eyes as he tried to figure out the cause of Dean’s good humor, his gaze once again settled upon the gift in his hands. It was an artfully handcrafted ornament made from driftwood, seashells and sand, and Dean had made it especially for him. And it is significant because it must have taken so much patience and time to shape such an intricate snowflake; Dean had been feeling awful and his work has been piling up, but despite all, he took time to make this for him.

_In which way, could he express his gratitude in a way Dean would feel what he feels?_

“Dean…”

Cas had been so lost in his thoughts and in Dean’s blessed face and admiring the exquisite details on the ornament that he didn’t noticed the words behind the glass, until his mate murmured.

“How do you like my calligraphy?”

It was a strange question, but nonetheless his eyes zoomed in on the dark letters and as each word floated out of his mouth, an amalgamation of heart-bursting feelings erupted through him and almost made him drop the ornament.

**_‘I’m haven’t been born yet,_ **

**_but can we count this as My First Christmas,_ **

**_Alpha daddy?’_ **

Right away his eyes darted to glowing green ones and then to the still unnoticeable belly; he could have sworn his heart grew each second that passed with a love that threatened to end his life. _His_ Dean, his kind and caring, strong and brilliant and beautiful Dean was pregnant with their first pup. After so long, after many failed heats, after so much anxiety, fear and heartbreak. He didn’t think loving Dean any more than he already did was possible, but unfailingly he always proved Cas wrong. Castiel wished he could build him a shrine and live every minute worshipping him, yet he couldn’t, therefore he did what he could. After hanging the ornament on the tree, he gathered Dean up in his arms and kissed him while strong arms returned his fervor.

Like Spring sunlight flirting with newly sprouted leaves, that’s how Dean’s laughter felt fluttering around his heart. He had all the riches he could ever desire right here in the circle of his arms.

“You are my prayer come true, Dean.”

And there goes Cas being a frikkin’ sap, but Dean maybe not so secretly loved this part of his Alpha. He’s sure his mate already knew about his weakness. So much for his ‘no chick-flick moments’ decree. Decree that from now on would mostly likely go to hell.

“Thank you, thank you…Oh Dean, no gift I could ever give you will ever hold a candle to the one living inside of you. How-how far along are you? That’s why you have been feeling so sick…morning sickness…I-I picked up a sweet note in your scent days ago, but I couldn’t place it. I should have known.”

Shaking his head at the self-reproach, Dean cradled his husband’s head and then replied, “I’m four weeks along and no, you couldn’t have known. Doctor Turner told me that my hormones are a little bit out of whack and messing up with my scent and immune system. Which is why you couldn’t have known from my scent, also stress fucks with our senses, and you have been too tense lately. But everything’s fine with the pup and me, so stop looking at me like that, okay?”

Castiel was still worried; he’ll be like that until he accompanied his omega to see the doctor and he explains everything in minute detail to him. Yes, he was one of those insufferable fastidious people, especially when it was about the health of his husband and pup. But for now, he will leave that aside and focus on the man resting his forehead against his and looking at him with merriment. Hoisting Dean to sit on his lap, one hand planted on the dip of his mate’s back and the other sneaking under the grey Henley to caress the belly that would soon begin to round, he resumed the conversation.

“This is the second, best gift I have ever received in my life. You, being the first. I love you, Dean. I wish you could feel every ounce of the love I feel for you, how it inspires and moves me to be better, how it swaddles my being at the mere thought of you, and how that love have grown exponentially. A few minutes ago, I didn’t know I could love you more than I already did.”

Ever since meeting this blue-eyed angel, Dean has become addicted to his romantic nature; the way Cas says how he feels, without an ounce of shame and completely unapologetic never failed to render him wonderstruck. And because he didn’t know what to respond, he let his lips transmigrate his feelings to his Alpha. It was a slow and tender kiss, a play of tongues and light nibbles, languid brushes and intermingled breaths—one of those kisses that happen when souls are drugged with bliss.

Long time ago, before meeting Dean, he might have doubted miracles, but now after being almost sure he had used all of his luck to have a family of his own, it humbled him his prayers have been answered. Carefully setting Dean down on the spread blanket, he kneeled on the vee of his mate’s legs as he petted the now exposed middle with one hand, he bent down, cupped a wet freckled cheek and while he branded a kiss on his omega’s forehead, he whispered a few more words, eyes shining with the happy tears warming his face.  

“Dean, I don’t have enough days in my life to thank you for the gift of family.”

Swiping away the tears on Castiel’s face as he let escape a golden laughter and his lips paint silver smiles, Dean replied in an undertone, “Then that means you have to stay with me forever and after. Merry Christmas, Cas.”

“Merry Christmas, Dean. Merry Christmas, little pup.” While he whispered the last words, he dropped feather-light kisses on his husband’s belly.

 

** ~FIN~ **

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? 
> 
> Thank you for reading ;)
> 
> If you are still craving more Destiel Christmas fluff, here's 2015 story: [I Fell for You, One Christmas Eve](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5485865)


End file.
